The Taxxon Chronicles
by Tom Serveaux
Summary: Trapped on an alien world, in a body that is not his own, Arbron struggles to rescue his adopted people from the Yeerk menace- and from themselves...
1. Prologue

The tug-of-war continued.

It was infinitely subtle, of course. One of them might briefly gain an advantage over the other but in the space of a few seconds- or perhaps years or centuries or eons- the other would regain his footing. It was a game played out across billions of light years. A panoply of strange and terrible and wonderful empires flickered across the stars. They lived and explored and warred and eventually crumbled, never knowing their role in the game of gods that roiled just beyond their comprehension.

And now, the two players reconvened.

Just below them, glittering in the light of a brilliant red sun, hung a planet. It was a dull, rusty brown, punctuated by deserts of burnished yellow. Deep empty seabeds criscrossed ragged mountain ranges like enormous black scars. On a galactic scale, it was insignificant, just a square on an infinitely large chess board. But, on a more local scale, events were taking shape here that would affect the game forever.

Once more, the two opponents regarded each other. The wizened old Ketran stared up at the enormous blood-red eyeball, and smiled serenely. The machine-eyeball, seated upon his mechanical throne, glowered downwards at his erstwhile opponent. They spoke briefly, neither willing to accidentally betray some secret strategy or plot to achieve a victory.

"You can only choose one," said the eyeball, smiling his sickening smile. "Choose one, and the other will never regain his true form."

It was a choice. A choice that was no less grim than all the other choices in all the other games that the two of them had played. One of them would survive and return to a happy life, and the other would die alone and unmourned, in a body that was not his own.

On the world below, two beings struggled for their lives. One would make a foolish mistake here and spend the rest of his life on this desert world- the other, not long afterwards, would voluntarily abandon his species for his love. Both were important. He could save either one from their exile- but only one. Both of them had the potential to change the future- but more importantly, both of them had the potential to change the game. Which one would he save?

He knew that the being opposite him enjoyed watching him sweat and suffer and deliberate. Both had infinite patience, and considered every move with a methodical calm, but neither wanted to show any signs of weakness. The nanoseconds ticked away with glacial slowness.

And then, he made his choice.

The universe changed. The one that he had saved regained his natural form, became the hero of a war, and inspired his son and a band of human youths to take up arms and fight an alien invasion. With one choice, the Ellimist had changed the galaxy. And so Prince Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul died a hero, passing into legend, remembered as the saviour of the Andalites, the humans, and even the Hork-Bajir.

But what about the other?


	2. Trap

My name is Arbron-Bantec-Deromar.

So many years have passed since my accident, the accident that changed my life forever. There are times when I cannot even remember my full name. And yet, I treasure my old name, the last tenuous link to a people that have written me off as dead, or worse. Those around me, my allies and my chosen people, have no names, not even a word for "name", and yet they are my only companions in the war I fight.

When my battle began, I was once a very different being. I had four agile eyes, four swift legs, two dextrous six-fingered arms, and a razor sharp tail. And I am- or at least, I used to be, an _aristh_ in the Andalite military. I joined the military seeking adventure and excitement. I dreamt of flying through the galaxy in my fighter, killing Yeerks, bringing evildoers to justice. There was a time when I thought that murder and slaughter were valiant acts to be applauded, the perpetrators decorated as heroes and paraded out in front of an adoring crowd.

If I were to blame anyone, of course, it would be the humans. Humans are a bizarre species, with only two legs, two eyes, tottering around on skinny legs adorned with strange artificial hooves. Both of them had been abducted by the Skrit Na for some reason or another. There were two of them. One was a female of the species called Loren. The other… I do not remember his name. He was harsher and abrasive than Loren, to be sure. Perhaps they returned to their home planet. Perhaps not.

It should have been a routine mission. Me and my fellow _aristh_ Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul were sent to retrieve them, return them to their home planet, and wipe their memories. Until, of course, we discovered that the Skrit Na possessed the Time Matrix. A frantic chase led me, Elfangor, and our commander Alloran to the Taxxon planet.

By Andalite standards, it is not a pleasant world. There is no grass and no trees. The only plants that can survive at all are tough and thorny, more like prickly armored spheres than any kind of real plant. The enormous red sun makes the air shimmer with heat in the daytime; the nights are frigid. The majority of animals that live on the planet are burrowers; eking out a living underground.

You could say that I am something of an expert on the planet. After all, I spent dozens of years there due to my own error.

Almost all Andalites possess the morphing ability. It allows us to acquire the DNA of other species and even to become them. It was the only way that me, Alloran, and Elfangor could infiltrate the Taxxon home world without attracting Yeerk attention.

But morphing is a double-edged sword. When you morph a creature, you acquire all the instincts, all the desires and fears of that creature. Taxxons are not pleasant creatures to look at, with enormous circular mouths lined with rotating teeth, an enormous worm-like body tipped with dozens of legs, and four shimmering, gelatinous eyes. But it is the hunger- the all-consuming, frantic, desperate hunger, that leaves them as the least desirable hosts for Yeerks and an unpleasant morph for Andalites.

And then there is the other downside of morphing. Remain in morph longer than two Earth hours, and you are trapped. Forever. Never to morph again.

And that is what happened to me.

I had been trapped in a starship hangar after I had succumbed to the Taxxon morph's instincts and cannibalized a dying member of my race. There, among dozens of other Taxxon-Controllers and Gedds, I felt the internal clock count down. I could not dimorph without being immediately set upon and being killed.

And now, as I scuttled through the metal streets of the Yeerk spaceport, I wondered just what fate awaited me, with the cold and dispassionate analysis of someone who has just had their entire life shattered. I was no longer part of the Andalite military. _Nothlits_- someone who has been trapped in a morph- are not looked kindly upon in Andalite society. I didn't even want to know how Andalites would treat a Taxxon _nothlit_.

By all accounts, I should be screaming with fear and self-loathing and agony about what I had done to myself. And yet, I felt nothing. Nothing, that is, but the eternal hunger that would live within me forever.

I tried to jog my emotions by thinking of my family. They would probably never know what happened to me; at best some military officer would cordially inform my parents that I had been killed in the line of duty and leave it at that.

That hurt, a little bit.

I tried thinking about the Dome ship that I had spent the last few months aboard. I prodded myself mentally. Iwould never again graze, or run free, or practice my tail-fighting with Elfangor.

That hurt a little more.

And then, suddenly, I thought about my guide tree, nestled next to the river that ran past our scoop. I would never see it again- I would never see that meadow again! I would never even see my entire home planet again, or my friends, or my family…

I wanted to slump onto the ground and scream. But that would more likely than not bring other Taxxons to my location, and I knew what they did with prone members of their species. Instead, I ducked behind a row of parked Bug fighters, pressing myself into a large grate that led underneath the spaceport, scurrying beside piles of old garbage and sewage.

I turned a corner- and saw another Taxxon hunched behind a mound of trash, fixing me with a stare.

I froze instinctually. But the Taxxon did not rush to cannibalize me, regarding me with a strange curiosity that I had never seen before.

‹Arbron! Is that you?›

And then, relief filling my hearts, I realized that this particular Taxxon had a few tufts of blue fur shrinking rapidly into its swollen body, hooves melting into needle feet. And no Taxxon had ever used thought-speak.

‹Yes, it's me.› I said slowly and cautiously, not wanting to betray what had happen to me.

‹What happened to you? I lost you and Alloran in that terrible feeding frenzy.› Elfangor could not have known what had happened to me, and I did not want to tell him.

I didn't say anything for a few moments. I did not want to admit that I had failed to him. I tried to change the subject, tried to emulate the cheerful recklessness that I had become infamous for. ‹So. We gonna rescue this Time Matrix thing or what? Hero time, huh?›

‹Yeah. Hero time.› Even as he said the words, I could tell that he knew what had happened to me. As I watched the last traces of Andalite become swallowed up in the vile worm body of the Taxxon, I felt a sudden stab of jealousy. Elfangor… Elfangor had no right to be able to morph when I would be stuck like this forever. For one brief, horrible moment I wanted to attack him on the spot, for him to feel a tiny fragment of the misery and pain that I was experiencing. I shuddered with revulsion and turned around, slithering away towards the spaceship. It was the only way we would ever get off this planet, but what future did I have?

‹Where's Alloran?› he asked.

‹I don't know,› I said, trying to sound flippant. ‹I lost him in the crowd. Just you and me, I guess. Come on. Let's do it. Let's save the world, hah-hah! Just what you planned, eh, Elfangor? Elfangor the hero?› I was babbling now, trying to distract Elfangor from realizing what had happened to me, trying to distract my own frantically racing mind with meaningless jabber.

‹If I end up being a hero, you'll be one too.› he said. ‹Besides, let's just see if we survive first.›

‹Yeah. Survive. Come on, Elfangor. Finish morphing.›

Elfangor had a plan, fortunately. Not a very good one, but under the circumstances it was the only real course of action we had. We would infiltrate the stolen Skrit Na ship, posing as Taxxon computer repair specialists.

‹Don't hesitate,› advised Elfangor from up ahead. ‹Look like you're on your way to work.›

‹Shut up, Elfangor,› I suddenly snapped, and instantly regretted it. Not just because I had likely hurt Elfangor's feelings, which were probably already strained to he limit, but because I was giving away what had happened. I babbled giddily one moment and turned sullen and withdrawn the next. And I knew that Elfangor was beginning to suspect what had happened.

Elfangor bluffed our way past the Gedds, and we dragged our bloated Taxxon bodies into the ship, preparing it for takeoff. Even as the Gedds pounded on the hull, realizing what had happened and demanding that we open the ship's hatch, I watched sadly as Elfangor resumed his Andalite shape. He looked at me with a mixture of guilt and pleading in his eyes.

‹Arbron! What are you up to? Demorph!› he yelled at me. But he already knew what had happened. He had always known what had happened, hadn't he?

What else could I say?

‹I really wish I could, Elfangor. I really wish I could.›

* * *

**Author's Note: **Arbron's name comes from the story "Grieving in Blue and Orange" by alikat522. It's a great story and I strongly recommend reading it. Keep up the good work, Alikat!


	3. Rescue

I had failed.

A numbing, tingling pain permeated the entirety of my upper body. The fact that some of my upper limbs had been amputated was of little concern to me. What concerned me most, as I returned to consciousness, was that my plan had failed. Elfangor had not killed me. He had wounded me greatly, yes, but I had not been killed. If only Elfangor hadn't missed with the shredder. Or perhaps he hadn't missed, and deliberately spared my life. I felt a sudden stab of hatred for Elfangor. Who was he to keep me alive when I yearned for the release of death?

Trying to distract myself, I looked up at the sky. How long had I been out? Enough time for the sun to set, at least; unfamiliar stars shone in the sky and three small moons cast eerie shadows above the desert landscape.

What remained of the ship crackled and smouldered. It was very clear that it would never fly again. The one Skrit that had been present aboard the ship had survived the crash; it now scurried around in a frenzy of agitation, trying futilely to clean up the blackened floor, chattering something unintelligible.

Something softly nuzzled up against me, and I pushed it away with what remained of my lower legs. In my semiconscious stupor, I tried to figure out how to best end my life. I was no longer an Andalite and thus I would feel no shame from killing myself. I considered slicing myself open on a sharp rock or a jagged piece of metal; my ravenous Taxxon instincts would do the rest. But even I did not want to end my life so shamefully and painfully. Perhaps I could electrocute myself on the shipwreck's wiring, or possibly throw myself of a cliff. If only I could stop being prodded, I could think…

The realization that something large and alive was pushing up against me snapped me out of whatever previous trauma-induced delirium I had been in. Fearing the worst, I twisted my Taxxon head, and had my fears confirmed.

Three Taxxons looked inquisitively at me, prodding me with their heads. Under the circumstances I was in, I did not think it unwise to panic. I kicked with what remained of my legs, shrieked and snapped with my mouth, hoping to frighten them into leaving me alone.

The largest one, and the one that I took to be the leader of the trio, was missing one of his eyes. Had he lost it in battle, or had one of his so-called comrades ripped it out of its socket in some cannibalistic feeding frenzy? It was a thought that I did not particularly want to ponder. I hissed and spat with my mouth with the ferocity of a wounded _kaftid _bird.

Then, with the sudden calm clarity that comes from facing an imminent death, I realized that this might be the way for me to end what remained of my miserable existence. Immediately, I ceased my struggles and slumped onto the ground. I waited for the sensation of Taxxon teeth and tongues ripping into my body, and anxiously awaited the release of death.

But death did not come. Instead, to my horror, I watched as two of the Taxxons scuttled over to where Elfangor lay. One of them extended an enormous tongue in a grotesque mockery of curiosity, prodding Elfangor's body. But Elfangor did not deserve a death at the hands of a hungry Taxxon. Even in my semi-conscious, self-pitying state, I realized that I could not let Elfangor die due to my negligence. Even if it meant that I would die in the process.

With one quick motion, I rolled up onto my Taxxon feet, shrieked with all my might, and slammed into the Taxxon nearest to me. Fortunately, my impact was blunted enough as to not draw blood; I did not want to think of what would happen if the trio of Taxxons descended into one of their infamous feeding frenzies.

‹Wait! Stop!› I shouted instinctively in thought-speak, trying to place myself between the slavering beasts and the body of my friend. I felt his breathing, though shallow and shaky, and tried my best to repress my own shrieking desire to feed on his unconscious body.

The three Taxxons looked at me like I was a dancing hoober.

"Speak?" said one of them in the sibilant Taxxon tongue. "Speak in head?" He stared at me with all the confusion he could display on his emotionless face before turning back to Elfangor's body. I had never heard a Taxxon speak before; of course, I knew that their shrieking and hissing had to mean _something_, but this was the first time that I, or at least the Taxxon part of me, could decipher those hideous noises into something approximating speech.

"Not Taxxon. Why not eat?" said another one, nudging Elfangor's lower body with his head. If I didn't act fast, I realized, Elfangor would die- and I might have a part in his murder. My mind raced desperately. What could they eat? How could I distract them?

The Skrit cocoons! Of course!

‹Follow me.› I said, hoping that the novelty of a thought-speak using Taxxon would momentarily overpower the urge to feed on the warm, juicy flesh of an easy kill…

… I had to get a grip. Elfangor was my friend, even now. Even though he had refused to end my life.

Entering the ship was far easier than the last time. For one thing, the airlock had been ripped off its hinges by the impact.

As I searched for the Skit and the two cocoons, I looked around at the other things that the Na had obtained -stolen? - from the human planet. Strange garments, peculiar bound sheets of paper, and, most interestingly, a huge yellow contraption whose purpose I could only guess at.

None of these peculiar alien items, though, were of any interest to the Taxxons who followed me.

"Food?" asked the Taxxon with the missing eye, for that was the only real feature that set him apart from the other two. "Head-speaker find us food?"

‹Food,› I agreed, feeling a sudden surge of horrible hunger as I said the word. ‹I will find you food.›

And there they were. The Skrit cocoons. They had been dislodged from the wall in the crash, but they were intact. The thick regurgitated silk mesh would not hinder a Taxxon mouth in search of food.

The one non-cocooned Skrit lunged in front of me, still shrieking and chattering in its indecipherable tongue. It stood no hope of stopping us, of course.

"Food!" cried one of the Taxxons as he saw my catch.

The Skrit screeched and writhed as I seized it in my mouth. ‹Food.› I agreed grimly. The Skrit wriggled desperately, trying to escape, but we pinned it to the floor with our needle limbs. With characteristic Taxxon brutality, the Skrit was devoured in only a few short seconds. Thick blue liquid that I could only guess was blood splattered across the bulkheads and ringed our mouths. The cocooned Skrit put up even less of a fight. We ripped the cocoons apart and greedily devoured the half-formed Na inside.

I had killed three beings in order to spare Elfangor's life. I was not even sure _why _I had done it. To take my mind of my burgeoning guilt, I looked at the Taxxons. Compared to the enormous, bloated specimens that waddled around the Yeerk spaceport, these three Taxxons were different. They were slenderer and sleeker. And, although I know that the hunger raged within them with as much passion as it did in me, that they did not seem as likely to perpetrate the random, senseless cannibalism that the Taxxon-Controllers and their collaborators had become infamous for.

‹You… you're not working with the Yeerks, are you?› I erred on the side of caution; who knew how many Taxxons were Controllers or collaborators? If today was anything to go by, being caught in a Yeerk sting operation would be just my luck.

"Yeerk?" said one of them, one with a series of long scars down his rubbery back. There was a moment of deliberation.

"Yeerks bad," he finally said. There was a pause while the Taxxon tried to puzzle out what to make of me. "But you hurt Yeerk mountain. No Taxxon hurt Yeerk mountain before. Talk like Hive, too. Work with Hive?"

It took me a moment to realize that the "Yeerk mountain" that he referred to was more likely than not the Skrit Na ship. But I was unsure as to what a Hive was. We had seen the hives- more like crude mounds of dirt than any Andalite structure- that the Taxxon-Controllers made their home in, of course, but the way that this Taxxon spoke about this Hive was almost… reverential.

‹What is Hive?› I asked, fearing the worst. Years of Andalite military training had taught me to expect the worst from the Taxxons. Perhaps this was all a trap in order to secure one more meal for the evening.

"Hive is mother and father. Hive is home. You hurt. Rest in Hive."

I suddenly remembered that Elfangor had wounded me significantly. The throbbing pain of my many amputated limbs suddenly resurged. The Taxxons stared at me with an inscrutable look in their eyes.

Perhaps the Taxxons were telling the truth about the Hive, and perhaps not. Either way, what did I really have to lose? To spend the rest of my life among Taxxons… a self-inflicted death would still be preferable. If nothing else, I would lead these three Taxxons away from Elfangor.

‹Show me where the Hive is.› I finally said.

The Taxxon homeworld is… well, "monotonous" is probably the best way to put it. Almost every part of it was some variety of canyon or crag or desert valley, and, under the moonslight, with the wind whistling through the desert, I did not feel reassured at all. I imagined horrible monsters lurking around every corner. I tried to remember everything I had learned about the Taxxons and their planet, which was pitifully small. Andalite exobiologists had never mapped out this planet. Who knew what horrific beasts might make a meal of an unsuspecting Taxxon? I missed my tail. An Andalite without a tail is like a kaftid bird without wings.

And then I saw the mountain.

It was not like mountain I had ever seen. The Andalite homeworld only has a few mountains around the equatorial deserts; they are more like enormous hills than anything on the Taxxon homeworld. This mountain was enormous. It was bigger than any building at the Yeerk spaceport. It resembled a fortress hewn out of the rock itself; a veritable redoubt that could deter anything. From this distance, the mountain seemed to move slightly, shimmering like a mirage. As I got closer, I realized why.

Taxxons! Hundreds and hundreds of Taxxons slithered across the mountain. Some carried slabs of meat into the mountain, others emerged to vomit up an unappealing green substance that coated the outer walls of the mountains. Dozens of holes had been carved all across the mountains; the Taxxons wriggled in and out of these holes like some grotesque larvae dining upon an enormous red slab of meat. Under the circumstances, it was not the most pleasant of analogies, and made me wonder what my fate would be. Although I still wanted to die, I did not want to die at the tongues of a thousand hungry Taxxons.

But as I followed them into the enormous red mountain, I became aware of another sensation. It was not something that my Andalite mind fully comprehended, but the Taxxon part of me- and the horrible hunger along with it- relaxed slightly. How can I put it into word? The sensation I felt was… nurturing. Parental. Almost loving. For a few brief moments, I really did believe that my parents were waiting for me in that mountain.

I suppressed another shudder of revulstion and followed the Taxxons.


	4. Hive

The mountain, as I had suspected, was hollow. Dozens of tunnels had been gnawed out throughout the entire mountain. Periodically, I heard what sounded like a series of distant tremors; with every subtle but firm vibration, I nervously looked up at the ceiling, quite rightly worried that the ceiling would collapse in on me. Had I still been Andalite, the claustrophobia would have been overwhelming.

The Taxxons squirmed and wriggled as they glanced at me, before returning to whatever they were doing. The tunnels writhed and squirmed with Taxxons. The tunnels were hot and crowded and extremely noisy. Just ahead of me, I saw "my" Taxxon- the one that I had come to think of as "Missing-eye". As I struggled to keep up with him, slithering over the skittering, scuttling, heaving bodies of the other Taxxons, I tried to remember what I had learned about Taxxons from my days at the academy. The answer, was, unfortunately, not very much. What proud Andalite xenobiologist would want to devote his life to studying Taxxons?

I knew how to fight them, of course. I knew- or at least I thought I remembered- one or two of the pressure points that would cause their vital organs to rupture, hopefully disrupting their brethren while they entered into one of their infamous feeding frenzies. I remembered Sofor telling me the best way to blind a Taxxon; two quick parallel strikes in rapid succession. I remember joking that you could probably starve one to death quicker than you could kill it.

It didn't seem very funny now.

I don't know how long we travelled through that hive. But my Taxxon senses, perfectly adapted to life in tunnels, detected subtle changes in the soil, changes in the air quality. We were clearly moving downwards. The tremors were growing louder, too. But Missing-eye did not seem worried by it. There was light up ahead. But even with shattered Taxxon vision, I realized that it was not surface light.

Ahead lay another tunnel. It was significantly larger than the cramped warren that we had traversed. And the suction was enormous! I instinctively flattened my body to the ground, dug what legs I had left into the hard-packed earth. My Andalite claustrophobia suddenly flared, and it was all I could do to not scream in horror. But I saw other Taxxons racing through the tunnels, like a grotesque subterranean parody of the Yeerk mag-lev train how many miles above. Where were they going?

Did I even want to know?

Missing-eye took one nonchalant glance back at me. "Follow," was all he said, before calmly pressing his legs up against his sides, and with a great roar of suction, shot down the tunnel. I took a deep breath, tentatively nudged myself towards the stepping-on point, and-

WHOOSH!

The speed! I did not know how fast I was going. I did not even know how I could stop. It was dizzying, hallucinogenic- but somehow exhilarating.

Ahead, I saw the Taxxons extending their legs slowly, scraping themselves up against the tunnel to bring themselves to a halt. I did the same- and although it hurt, and I am certain that one or two of my lower legs were snapped off by the sudden deceleration, I came to a halt. I saw Missing-eye and the other Taxxons waiting for me. They stared at me like I was a curiosity, which I suppose that I was. But I could not shake the feeling that I was also some potential new delicacy to be savored.

And so up we went. We were in another mountain, if my senses were anything to go by. How far had I travelled in those few- seconds? Minutes? Hours? But the Taxxons that swarmed over and around me paid me no heed- or at least not until I reached a particularly large chamber.

Dozens and dozens of Taxxons had lined up in perfect unison, staring at me with their emotionless red eyes. Each one of them created an eerie whistling noise, reared back on their lowermost legs and wriggling.

"Find food?" asked one of them to Missing-eye, "Food today?"

"No food." said Missing-eye, in a tone that almost sounded annoyed. He slithered around, turning back for me. I felt almost like some biological specimen on display, and I did not particularly like it. "Find Taxxon in Yeerk mountain," he continued. "Speak like Hive. But not know Hive. We bring to Hive, he talk with Hive, learn Hive."

As soon as he said these words, a fresh chorus of whistles erupted from the crowd. I only hoped that this was how the Taxxons showed their pleasure, and not how they prepared to eat.

My situation still did not look good. I did know what the Taxxons planned to do with me. Elfangor was probably still unconscious, stranded in some faraway desert with no hope of salvation. As for the two humans… were they still safe on the ship? Or had they been intercepted by Yeerks?

My Andalite claustrophobia, though dampened by the Taxxon mind, suddenly surged like water breaching a dam. I had to get out of her. I had to escape. But just as I prepared to tackle the first Taxxon that stood between me and escape, I realized something that almost made my hearts stop beating.

I suddenly realized what the "tremors" were. They were not the sound of some far off tunnelling as I had previously assumed; they were far too regular, too evenly-spaced.

It was the sound of breathing.

The mountain was alive.

‹ARBRON-BANTEC-DEROMAR.›

The thought-speak voice that suddenly filed my head was enormous. It was like having a Dome ship dropped on your head. It filled my head, filled my body. My body trembled, but I remained still. Some part of me, the morphed Taxxon mind, was not afraid. The rest of the Taxxons stood in rapt attention, the way that arisths stood to attention while in the presence of a War-Prince.

‹Y…yes?› I was sure that my body was trembling as I gazed up at the interior of the mountain. Taxxons all stared at me in rapt attention, still whistling.

‹WHAT IS ARBRON-BANTEC-DEROMAR?›

It was… a strange question, to be sure. How did it not know what my name was? ‹It is me. It is my name.›

‹NAME?›

‹My name… a name is what my parents called me when I was born.›

‹MY CHILDREN DO NOT CALL THEIR EGGS NAMES. AND ALL TAXXONS ARE BORN KNOWING THE HIVE. WHAT ARE YOU, ARBRON-BANTEC-DEROMAR?›

I had already used thought-speak, there was no sense pretending to be a lost and disoriented Taxxon and fishing for information. ‹You're right. I am not really a Taxxon. I am… an Andalite.›

‹WHAT IS AN ANDALITE?› But even as it asked the question, I found myself involuntarily recalling memories of my former self. They were memories of another, nobler body, with sleek blue fur, delicate hooves, and a wonderful tail. They were painful memories that I desperately wanted to forget. But something moved through my mind.

‹Stop it!› I snapped, my anger at being used in such a way momentarily eclipsing my awe of the enormous voice. ‹What are you, that you can… search my memories without my consent? What are you?›

I did not receive an answer. At least, I did not receive an answer in thought-speak.

I was not sure how long the mountain spoke for me, but I was lost in its thoughts for what seemed like an eternity. I saw- rather, I was privileged to be shown- a tiny portion of the mountain's thoughts.

The mountain was alive. It had lived for ninety thousand years. It had weathered torrential storms of rain that created ferocious rivers, survived storms of killing light that rained from the sky and injured its children.

I saw the living rock that it was composed of- and the tunnels of stony muscles that linked it to the hive just across the desert, and from there to the hives on the eastern coast, and even under the hypersaline oceans to the many hives on the island archipelagos to the south, all the way to the scattered hives at the planet's poles. All of them were connected. Each enormous mountain-being was just a tiny part of something greater.

A single super-organism. It was a global network, composed of thousands of hives and millions of Taxxons. Perhaps it was the largest organism ever to exist, on any planet.

The Living Hive.

I did not understand it entirely. But the Taxxon brain did. The hunger still hurt. But the Hive eased the pain, eased the hunger, filled the Taxxon mind with whatever peace it could give.

Mother and Father of the Taxxons. The Hive was home. The Hive was family. The Hive was shelter. The Hive was life.

And yet, for all its size and might, the Living Hive was not perfect. It only understood what its little children understood. None of its little children had ever used thought-speak. It had never seen an Andalite, and it did not know why an Andalite had become one of its children.

I spoke to the Hive, opening my memories to this largest of creatures. I was not sure how long we communed. But every memory I had, of joy and triumph, pain and sadness, poured from me into the Hive. The Hive saw my memories of my home, and my family, and Elfangor. It saw interstellar space, what lay beyond this world. It saw me, Alloran, and Elfangor morphing into Taxxons in orbit and slipping past Yeerk defences. It saw the Yeerk spaceport, and I was suddenly jolted back into reality as a thought-speak voice thundered through my head.

‹YEERKS.› That statement radiated anger. And my body shuddered from the sudden impact of the words, of the anger that seeped through its words like a living thing. I quailed before the anger of the Hive.

‹Yes.› I said, my hearts still pounding. ‹There are Yeerks on your planet. They have taken many of your Taxxons. And they have bribed others with the promise of food.›

‹I KNOW.›

‹But then… why did you give up the Taxxons to the Yeerks?› I asked. Every Andalite aristh had heard about the Taxxons in our briefings. The evil, vile creatures who had voluntarily joined the Yeerks in exchange for food. At least the Gedds and Hork-Bajir could be pitied- they had no choice about being infested by the Yeerks.

But the more I explored the Taxxon mind, I detected no shred of evil. The hunger was horrible, yes, ravenous and all-consuming, and yet there was no real malice behind it. I could not imagine any Taxxon wanting to enslave innocent beings or take over another planet. They were not driven by evil, they were driven by fear. It was an overwhelming, never-ending fear of starving, of not having enough, of dying in the midst of plenty. A fear that no doubt led to their joining the Yeerks.

‹Did you give them up? Why?› I needed to understand. How could a being this vast not realize the evil of the Yeerks?

And then I felt something even bigger take control of my body. I had shown the hive my memories, and now I saw the world through its eyes.

How could I describe it? I saw, but not with my own eyes. I saw thousands and thousands of tiny pictures, like my own compound Taxxon eyes, but on a grand scale. And then I realized that each one of these images was the world as seen by a single Taxxon. Each one, just a tiny part of something infinitely greater.

I felt the Hive's confusion at seeing the mountains that could fly. And I saw through billions of eyes as the first Yeerk explorers entered the hives. Hork-Bajir, Nahara, and Gedds entered into the hives and were set upon immediately by its little children. The visions were not pleasant, but I could not help but feel a vengeful satisfaction at watching the Yeerks devoured by hundreds of Taxxons.

For a few brief moons, the flying mountains withdrew, leaving the Hive alone.

The vision faded, and I was once again alone in the dark stone chamber.

‹And then what?› I asked. That was not the end. I knew that.

‹AND THEN THE ALIENS DID A TERRIBLE THING, ARBRON.› said the Hive. I felt anger seep through those words like a living thing

Once again, I saw the world through the Hive's enormous body, through the eyes of all the Taxxons, through the eyes of all of its children.

Only a few months passed before the Yeerks returned to the world. Through the eyes of my children, I saw Pool ships, battleships, descending onto the desert plains. Columns of Taxxons marched towards them. But the Hive hesitated, and in that it sowed the seeds of its downfall.

This time, the Yeerks did not go for their usual approach. No, they had discovered an easier way to gain hundreds, if not thousands, of willing hosts.

They offered a deal with the children: those who voluntarily joined the Yeerks would receive all the meat that they could eat for the rest of their life. The children that did not join with the aliens would be killed on the spot. Some fought back, but most defected, cutting themselves off from the Living Hive.

When a little child was infested, he was lost to the Hive. No longer could the Hive regulate his hunger or keep him under control. The infested children fought against one another, greedily ripping into one another's monstrously bloated bodies in crudely constructed hives, hastily patched together with dirt and mud. It was sickening.

And so the Hive fought back. Those children still under its control launched themselves at the aliens. But the aliens had strange powers; they could fire hot beams of light and had mountains that flew. Entire hives were obliterated. I felt the Hive's screams of pain reverberate through the hives, and the loyal Taxxons that writhed in agony as their mother and father knew pain for the first time in millennia.

In the space of a few moons, thousands of Taxoxns died.

The aliens came and took away many of my children. Many of them volunteered to leave with the aliens. And the aliens continued to invade the plains and coasts of the world, ripping metal out of the ground, building machines that brought more and more aliens to the world, to continue the enslavement and corruption of its children.

The vision faded, but I could not stop trembling. I could not stop shaking with fear.

I knew that the Hive was angry.

I knew that the Hive wanted revenge.

And even I was afraid of its wrath.


	5. Rebellion

‹This,› I said, holding the image of a Hork-Bajir brandishing a Dracon beam in my mind, ‹is called a Dracon beam. It's a modification of Andalite shredders, but it is designed to cause maximum pain in its targets before they are killed. I think that there are specialized Dracon beams designed to for Taxxon use.›

It was funny, how quickly I was settling into my new role of impromptu war prince of the Taxxons. The Taxxons had all dispersed, returning to their jobs- excavating new tunnels for the Hive, foraging for food, or resting in the main antechamber, waiting for a new command.

The Hive was learning quickly about the Yeerks. I began by explaining to the Hive about the Yeerk Pool, and how all Yeerks had to disengage from their hosts and feed every seventy-two hours. I recounted the various kinds of ships that would be serviced at the Yeerk spaceport; the aliens that the Yeerks had already enslaved and their appearances. As I communed with the Hive, I suspected –realized- that every loyal Taxxon would now know everything that I knew about the Yeerks. And as I spoke to the Hive, telling it everything about the Yeerks, I felt its anger grow.

‹You have fought the Yeerks before,› I said, remembering the Hive's first encounters with the Yeerks.

‹YES. BUT ALWAYS THEY DESTROY MY CHIDREN FROM AFAR, WITH THEIR DRACON BEAMS.› What disturbed me was that the Hive knew nothing about war, or tactics, or fighting.

As I tapped into the Hive's memories of the battles against the Yeerks, I realized that there was no ingenuity or invention in the Hive's tactics. Every eighty-three days, the Hive would assembled a total of six hundred and twelve Taxxons, sent them through the same tunnel that emerged several kilometres away from the base, and then run them up against the automated turrets of the Yeerk complex where they were invariably obliterated.

It was an ancient instinctual reaction, I realized as I searched the memories of the Hive, from ancient times; when the red deserts were fertile jungles and the Taxxons could sate their hunger. I did not know what kind of long-extinct prehistoric creature would prey on Taxxons, but the Hive had kept them at bay with this strategy.

But, conversely, the same tactics were ill-suited against the technological weapons of the Yeerks. The Hive could not come up with plans by itself. It could only act on what it already knew. The Hive was only the sum of its parts; parts that could not formulate any kind of strategy or plan ahead.

Except for one.

So it was that I became its teacher for the next few hours. I had a plan- an insanely risky plan, one that might not work out, but a plan nonetheless.

‹We require more than six hundred Taxxons,› I gently explained to the Hive. ‹How many warriors can you spare?›

‹ONE THOUSAND MAY GO WITH YOU.› To attack the Yeerk installation? It was a suicide mission, to be sure. One thousand unarmed Taxxons up against how many thousands of Hork-Bajir Controllers? It would be slaughter. ‹You can't spare any more? That won't be enough to-›

‹MY CHILDREN MUST MAINTAIN THE HIVE.›

I reconsidered. If we could not charge the Hive, was a surprise attack possible?

‹Is it possible… can you move your tunnels?›

‹NO.›

My hearts fell.

‹BUT I CAN BUILD NEW ONES.›

‹How long will that take?›

‹MY CHILDREN ARE EXCELLENT DIGGERS. IT WILL ONLY TAKE FIFTEEN HOURS FOR THEM TO BUILD NEW TUNNELS.›

‹Directly underneath the spaceport?›

‹YES.›

That was… reassuring, at least. If we could at least strike at the heart of the Yeerks, take them by surprise, we might last a little bit longer.

But I still could not leave Elfangor to die in the desert. If he was still alive, I could try to save him.

‹Hive,› I asked, ‹do you see any Andalites on the surface?›

There was a pause, and I began to worry that I had offended the enormous being with such a small and petty request.

‹YES.›

‹Is it possible that you can bring him into the hive? I…I need to speak to him about this rebellion.›

The Hive said nothing, and once more I began to worry.

Then, far up above, in the central antechamber, I heard a crash and an unfamiliar metallic screech.

* * *

"Gimme, gimme, gimme the honkey-tonk blues!"

I watched as the Taxxons recoiled from the thing momentarily. It was the alarmingly yellow contraption that I had seen in the Skrit Na ship. It belched black fumes, and the growling of its engine put me in the mindset of some predatory beast. As I scurried over to it the other Taxxons lost their fear, concentrating on patching up the large hole left behind by its passage.

‹IS THIS THE CREATURE?› I watched with alarm as Elfangor briefly slumped as the Hive spoke again. Perhaps Andalite brains were not designed to handle the thought-speak of the Hive; at any rate, Elfangor seemed to be noticeably distressed as he groggily blinked and looked with no small amount of alarm around the central chamber of the Hive.

I quickly decided to spare Elfangor any more torment and scurried over. The fact that Elfangor was driving the bizarre yellow machine salvaged from the Skrit Na wreckage was less astonishing than the fact that Elfangor was alive at all.

‹Yes. That's him,› I said quickly. ‹He is called Elfangor.›

‹Arbron?›

‹Yes, Elfangor. It's me.›

‹I was afraid you were dead.› Some small, sullen part of me bristled at that. He had the chance to kill me, he really did.

‹I wanted to be,› I answered truthfully. ‹But I am still alive. Alive to serve the Living Hive.›

‹The what?›

I explained the Hive to him as quickly as I could. After watching him recoil from the Hive speaking to him, I did not want to think about what might happen if the Hive tried to show him a vision.

‹What are you talking about?› he asked, incredulously. ‹Have they done something to you?›

‹Have they done something to me?› I laughed, more than a little bitterly.

‹Well, they didn't eat me, if that's what you mean.› Once again, I quickly tried to sum up exactly how I had avoided death from, glossing over how I saved his life in the process. I explained the Taxxon tunnels to Elfangor, how a Taxxon only had to fold back its legs and be transported enormous distances in only a few minutes.

Elfangor looked at me more closely. ‹The leg I… the legs you were missing. They're growing back.›

‹Yes.› I said flatly, averting my gaze as I rubbed one of my forelimbs on the ground. ‹Taxxons can regenerate legs.›

‹Arbron, what's going on? It wasn't an accident that the round opened up beneath me. Did the Hive want me here for some reason?›

‹Yes, Elfangor. The hive is angry.›

‹At me?›

‹The Living Hive is tired of losing its children to the Yeerks. The Living Hive has long sought a way to destroy the Yeerk invaders and remove them from this planet. But the hive could not understand the Yeerks and their machines. Now the Hive has an adviser. Someone who understands machines, spaceships, Dracon beams Someone who will help the Hive destroy the Yeerks and their traitor Taxxons.›

‹You?› Even through my compound Taxxon eyes, I could see the mix of emotions in Elfangor's eyes. A mixture of derision and pity and revulsion.

‹What better future could I have, Elfangor?› I said, more fiercely than I had intended. ‹I am Taxxon now.› His fault. It was all his fault. He could have killed me when he had the chance.

No. I could not give in to those emotions. Down that road…

… I did not want to go down that road. ‹And now,› I continued, my voice softer, ‹I am preparing for a surprise attack on the spaceport. The Hive will send a thousand of her children with me. I will lead a Taxxon rebellion.›

And yet I could still se that patronizing look in his eyes.

‹Don't pity me, Elfangor. I am glad I didn't die.› I insisted, not altogether truthfully. ‹Any life is better than none.› ‹And no matter how awful tings seem, there is always meaning and purpose to be found.›

‹And you've found your purpose?›

It was a simple question, phrased innocuously. But it hurt even more than the fact that Elfangor had refused to help in my hour of need.

‹We attack tonight,› I said hastily, trying to break the sudden but meaningful silence that had coalesced between us. ‹The Living Hive is pushing her tunnels closer to the spaceport. A thousand Taxxons will pour from the ground, surprising the Yeerks and all their creatures.›

‹You'll lose.›

‹We know. But even a Taxxon has the right to control its own planet,› I replied, remembering the nightmarish visions of the Yeerk invasion. ‹Even a Taxxon has the right to resist an invader.›

‹But you can't win.›

‹Aren't lost causes sometimes the best causes?› If I didn't help the Hive, than what Andalite would?

Elfangor's voice softened somewhat as he gazed at me, with a weary but resolute sense of duty in his eyes. ‹Tell me what I can do to help, Arbron.›

‹That's more like it, Elfangor. We'll put some tail blades into these Yeerks, right? Right? We'll be heroes, after all.›

I left Elfangor in the central chamber as I descended back down into the depths of the hive. The Hive would see to it that he remained safe; besides, I had more pressing work to oversee.

Hours passed. We formulated plans, tried to reinforce our own hives, strategized for hours. Sometimes I would come up and see Elfangor. We kept our conversations distant and formal. I told Elfangor to never tell anyone about what had happened to me. I didn't want my mother and father to know that their son was a Taxxon. We talked about life on the Dome ship. I made a few silly jokes about old Sofor. I tried to keep things light and informal, but in our hearts we knew that neither of us really wanted to look at the other one.

* * *

‹THE TUNNELS ARE ALMOST COMPLETE.›

My plans were coming to completion. For the past twelve hours, fifty Taxxons had tirelessly excavated a new set of transportation tunnels- tunnels that, when they were completed, would extend directly beneath the Yeerk spaceport. The attack would sere two purposes, or so I hoped. The Taxxon attack would not only hurt the Yeerks, but allow Elfangor and Alloran- if the latter was even still alive- to hopefully hijack a Bug fighter and escape and return the two humans safely.

I had already decided that I would not leave the Taxxon homeworld with them.

‹THE TUNNELS ARE COMPLETE, ARBRON.›

Indeed, as I hurried towards the main chamber of the hive, I realized that the one thousand Taxxons had been gathered. All of them were noticeably larger and more muscular than my own Taxxon morph. Clearly they had been hand-picked by the Hive for this rebellion.

I did not need to speak to them. There were no inspiring words to be said, no way to reassure these warriors that they would save the day. They knew that ahead lay only death, and yet they resolutely stood to attention in the chamber, listening to the telepathic voice of the Hive and the plan that I had created. I would send these Taxxons to their deaths, to enslavement by a Yeerk.

One by one, I watched the Taxxons clamber into the tunnels, shooting away into the darkness with the speed of rockets. I spoke with Elfangor briefly before I left. I warned him that the rebellion would not be pleasant. If I lost control, I implored him, I indirectly asked him to kill me.

Behind me, I watched Elfangor clamber into his yellow machine. I could only hope that he would be able to find Alloran and find some way off of this planet without me.

I took a deep breath and climbed into the tunnel that led towards my doom.

As I raced through the darkness, farther and farther away from the Hive's comforting presence, I felt the hunger began to surge forward once more. I had warned Elfangor about what the battlefield would be like; I had no qualms about him killing me if I became uncontrollable.

To try and take my mind off of the raging hunger, I performed the Andalite death ritual. Had I access to a computer, I would no doubt record my hirac delest- even though my hirac delest would be a little more than a sad joke. The traditional Andalite death ritual gave me little comfort.

‹I am the servant of my people,› I said to myself as I hurtled headlong towards my doom. What Andalite would want me like this?

‹I am the servant of my prince.› I had no prince. What prince would want me under his command?

‹I am the servant of honour.› To be trapped as a nothlit, let alone a Taxxon nothlit, had no honour or glory in it.

‹My life is not my own, when the People have need of it. My life is given for the People, for my prince, and for my honour.› Lies. Lies. All of it was a lie. I would die alone and in shame among worms.

Some detached part of me realized that the hunger was raging worse than ever. I must have been getting close to the spaceport, far away from the Hive's pacification.

Suddenly-

WOOOOSH!

THUD!

I was up! Behind me, I saw the pit that I had emerged from- the tunnel had been completed only a few moments before the first wave of attackers had emerged.

Battle was joined. Behind me, a swarm of Taxxons, a solid wall of writhing tongue and razor sharp teeth, rolled forward like some nightmare tide.

It is true that, in a one on one match, a Hork-Bajir will win against a Taxxon every time. But one thousand Taxxons, fragile as they are individually, is a force to be reckoned with.

‹Take down the Hork-Bajir!› I cried, hoping that as the Taxxons surged onwards, led by their appetites, that they would heed my thought-speak words.

The carnage was terrible.

When I was young, I dreamed of fighting in a war some day. The other younglings and I would play with our toy shredders, pretend to be war-princes and blow up Kelbrids and Yeerks. We would play on our simulators, laughing and cheering as we won battle after battle.

War, as my young self saw it, was a heroic, bloodless affair, full of daring heroes and dastardly villains. All the propaganda films I had seen in my Andalite days never showed any real ground combat; only faraway space battles and the aftermath, where heroic Princes were always commended for their bravery.

War was nothing like that. Nothing at all.

My first victim was a Gedd-Controller. I don't know who he was, why he was at the spaceport that day. All I know is that with Taxxon ferocity I pinned him under my formidable bulk, tearing his body to bloody shreds and greedily swallowing every part of him; eyeballs, bone, blood, torn to bits and stuffed down my gullet.

To my left, two of my Taxxons ripped apart a Nahara, sinking razor-sharp teeth into its delicate body. To my right, five Taxxons slammed again and again into a Hork-Bajir. I heard him scream in terror and pain as one Taxxon dug his mouth into his reptilian face. All I could think was that this was not war. This was not war.

Blood! Blood! Blood! So much meat, scraps of flesh, going to waste! The Taxxon mind was positively frantic with hunger by now.

"Snreeeeeeya!" I screeched with my slobbering Taxxon mouth. That meant "food." It was almost instinctual, some kind of alert that one member of the hive had located food. The cry went up across the spaceport as my rebels brought down their prey- and to devour the flesh of their own dead. It was intoxicating, disorienting, and hallucinogenic. Which way to turn? What was I supposed to be doing again?

"Food!" came the cry from only a few feet away, as another pair of Taxxons sated their appetites, gnawing on the still-writhing corpse of what I only hoped was a Taxxon-Controller.

"Food!"

"Food!"

"Food!"

We were quickly losing momentum. Swarms of Taxxon-Controllers bogged down our movement. Hork-Bajir and Gedds armed with Dracon beams picked us off from afar. I estimated that there were only a few hundred of my warriors left- if "warriors" was the correct term to use. This wasn't a battlefield anymore- it was a slaughterhouse. I gave in to my urges, shovelling the pulped flesh of a Hork-Bajir into my mouth.

Something huge and yellow roared past. I did not even pause my eating to figure out what it was.

The _Jahar_!

Were the humans alright? It took all of my willpower to drag my body away from the carnage. Through the ship cradles I hurried, trying to reach it in time. The spaceport ran red and green and blue with rivers of blood.

‹Get to the _Jahar_,› I chanted to myself. ‹Get to the _Jahar _and everything will be alright.›

I passed scenes of horrific violence. Taxxons eating Taxxons. The warm guts were good to eat, soft and succulent.

‹Get to the _Jahar._›

Taxxons eating Gedds. The Gedd whimpered and twitched as he hung on the throes of death. I had to hurry, otherwise the best meat would be taken!

‹Get to the _Jahar_ and everything will be alright.›

Taxxons eating Nahara, Hork-Bajir… I had to get to the _Jahar, _so everything would be alright.

My blood ran cold as I saw the Jahar, lying in its cradles. Hundreds of Taxxons devouring one another only a few feet away from where it stood. Some of them surged clambered over the leaking bodies of their comrades to try and reach at the two creatures who stared plaintively out at the children of the Living Hive, now thrashing aimlessly as they struggled to reach the creatures inside.

The humans! The humans were alright…

…They were defenceless, easy, no blades or Dracon beams…

…I would start with the little one …

‹STOP IT!› I screamed. I screamed it again, and again, at the Taxxons who struggled to devour me and the humans who I should be rescuing. Noise! Screeches and hisses and the wet squelch of dead guts spilling onto the ground combining into a terrible cacaphony.

‹STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!› Who was I screaming at? Was I trying to restrain myself?

A sudden noise, and a familiar roar!

Elfangor, commandeering his yellow machine! He roared towards me, scattering Taxxons and Taxxon-Controllers alike as he careened towards us, screeching to a halt at the last second.

‹Arbron!› His voice was desperate, panic-stricken, as was my reply.

‹Elfangor! I can't hold them any longer!›

‹Are these Taxxon-Controllers? Or are they your soldiers?›

‹There's no difference anymore, Elfangor! Don't you see? Blood has been spilled. The hunger . . . the hunger! Stop me, Elfangor! Stop me!› I wailed, as the inviting stench of blood filled my nostrils once more.

Before I even knew what I was doing, my Taxxon body raced towards the humans.

The Andalite inside screamed.


End file.
